


A Part of Me Is Living, A Part Of Me Is Dead

by Hawkgay



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Body Horror, Canonical Character Death, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Drug Use, I Can't Write Smut But I Can Tear Peoples Hearts Out Through Their Kneecaps, M/M, Pseudo-Incest, graphic description of gore, no beta we die like ben
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2019-11-19 14:22:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18136904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hawkgay/pseuds/Hawkgay
Summary: Straight out of rehab and back at the mansion Klaus decides to stay instead of trailing after Diego. While getting high off codeine stolen from Reginald’s lab, Klaus sees Grace go down into a room neither he or Ben knew existed. Following her, he comes across something that changes everything in the last decade between Klaus and Ben.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I dedicate this to my best friend Eroticcannibal and the Horrance server who egged me on to write this.  
> Unbeta'd but I'm pretty sure I caught most of the mistakes

_Twelve Years Ago_

 

Ben resurfaced from the ocean of limbo into the courtyard of the Academy, dazed he was unsure of how long he’d spent gone. Rain fell from the night sky in massive drops, coating everything it touched with an even layer of water. Everything seemed so muted in the downpour including his own emotions, a piece of Ben that had made him alive was missing. The beasts he loathed no longer writhed under his skin and carved an emptiness he never believed their absence would create. In the cold gloom, the only thing to stand out to Ben as he looked around was the swaying figure of Klaus staring at something obscured by darkness, his pale skin aglow in the lowlight. Moving forward Ben stopped next to Klaus as he caught a glimpse of the thing fixed in his brother’s gaze, forged in black iron was a statue of a younger version of himself. _So perfect, so innocent, so_ …fake. Never in life had he been allowed the freedom of a child as this effigy implied, he and the others were brought up as weapons, and none of them knew what innocence meant. Reading the epitaph under his name Ben suppressed an incredulous chuckle. May the darkness within you find peace in the light a humourless joke his father had made out of the violent death of one his tools.

 

Turning to face Klaus, Ben watched as his brother’s dangerous wobbling won out to gravity as he finally fell forward, his knees hitting the ground with a damp thud. The empty bottle of vodka clutched loosely in one hand rolled off into the darkness with a clatter, his eyes still refused to leave the statue. A forgotten cigarette long since extinguished dangled precariously from between his lips, it tumbled out and was washed away by the rain. A great wave of melancholy crashed over Ben as he noticed the slightly ragged uniform Klaus wore, he didn’t understand why he had it on. The outfit had stopped being mandatory when they turned sixteen; now it was only something forced by Reginald for family portraits. Ben sensed he’d vanished a lot longer than the few days it felt like trapped in oblivion. Not meant to keep out the rain the uniform had become saturated with water and clung tightly to Klaus’s skin. Dark hair plastered against his forehead Klaus seemed blind to the world around him. Barely a slither of Klaus’s green irises framed the deep black of his blown out pupils, a sign to Ben he wasn’t sober.

 

Silent tears streamed down Klaus’s face and intermingled with the rain, his eyes filled with a brokenness Ben had spent years chasing away. In vain Ben crouched down and attempted to wipe away the anguished tears off his brother’s face, he failed as his fingers went through Klaus’s cheek like smoke. Death had created an ocean between them that neither could bridge, another tragedy for Ben to endure. He embraced Klaus as best he could with his ethereal body, Ben hoped in some small way Klaus could take comfort from the phantom touch. Ben struggled to pretend this was just another night between them after a mission went awry. The illusion shattered as loud gut-wrenching sobs escaped from Klaus and into the night, his chest heaved as grief wracked through him in waves. Rolling sideways he curled up into a trembling ball of pain on the sodden ground and shut his eyes tight to avoid the world around him.

 

Leaning over Klaus, Ben whispered into his ear, “Get up, you’ll get sick if you stay like this.”

The words fell on deaf ears as Klaus held his knees closer to his chest and screwed up his face further. His intent to deny Ben’s existence quite clear.

“Please listen to me Klaus,” Ben sighed as he pleaded to the motionless ball, knowing it was futile.

 

Nothing left to do Ben laid down next to Klaus and wrapped himself around the prone form of his brother in a last ditch effort to keep him warm. Ben closed his own eyes and imagined the two of them were upstairs in Klaus’s room, snuggled close under the covers on the narrow bed. Happier times where they’d spent hours making silly plans to escape from their father and forge a normal life outside the bubble of being the Seance or the Horror. Away from the others Klaus and Ben used to exist in their own little world in those quiet moments, where they could touch and make believe nothing could ever hurt them again.  Moments of lingering caresses and whispered promises lost forever to the unceasing drumbeat of the rain above.

 

The rain subsided as dawns weak light broke through and the clouds into the courtyard, illuminating the huddled mass of Klaus and Ben. The entire night Ben remained awake, gripping tightly onto the thinning tether keeping him in the waking world and next to Klaus. He listened intently as Klaus’s breathing gradually became ragged and his heartbeat slowed to a snail's pace. His skin cold it sluggishly changed from white to light blue the longer Klaus stayed outside. Ben knew Klaus was a goner if not found soon, terrified he’d vanish Ben waited restlessly for someone to discover him and help. Another hour passed before the sound of the door forced Ben to sit up. He smiled in relief as he watched Luther step out into the courtyard, expression indifferent Luther spotted the still form of Klaus. Walking over to them he stood above Klaus and the ghost of Ben.

“Hey, it’s been over a year, you need to stop fucking about and get up. Dad’s getting really sick and tired of this moping act, come Mom’s made breakfast,” voice callous Luther nudged at Klaus with the toe of his shoe. When Klaus remained unresponsive Luther crouched down and placed a hand onto his shoulder to shake his brother out of his stupor, only to find him icy to the touch.

Luther mumbled “Shit,” under his breath, effortlessly he picked up Klaus off the ground and cradled his limp form against his broad chest.

 

He turned his back on the depressing memorial and carried Klaus back into the house. Rooted to the spot shock tore through Ben as he realised how long Klaus had stayed in the poisoned walls of the Academy, fruitlessly waiting months for the return of the one person who’d understood him. Ben pulled himself together. The past was not something that he could change, and instead of agonising over it, he would stand by Klaus. Resolve made Ben followed Luther into the mansion to await the day Klaus noticed the ghost he wanted to conjure the most.

 

After Luther deposited Klaus at their father’s lab, Reginald had brusquely examined his adopted son. Ben observed from the sidelines as his father finished listening to Klaus’s chest and diagnosed him with pneumonia and a minor case of hypothermia. He didn’t stick around to treat his patient, leaving the job to Mom like always. She placed a cannula into the crook of Klaus’s elbow and started a drip of IV antibiotics to stream through his veins. Gently Grace lifted him off the stretcher and transported Klaus through the halls of the house to his bedroom, followed closely by Ben. Placing her son onto his narrow bed Grace kissed his forehead and tucked him under the covers, she left Klaus alone with only Ben for company. For Ben, that’s when the three weeks of endless waiting began.

 

The first few days of watching over Klaus Ben did nothing but sit at the foot of the narrow bed, the position an almost exact replica of vigil from long ago. The only sound in the quiet room was the rasp of laboured breathing mixed with the odd coughing fit as Klaus tossed and turned in his broken sleep. Coated in a layer of cold sweat Klaus’s pyjamas clung damply to his skin, the sheets tangled around him Klaus whimpered unintelligible words in between great chest heaving coughs. Sometimes Ben swore he heard his named mixed into the jumbled word salad coming from his mouth. Mostly Ben put it down to a weird combination of the fever and withdrawal from whatever Klaus had taken that night in the rain. Ben wanted more than anything to wrap his arms around Klaus and take away the nightmares plaguing his sleep. Instead, he’d become another one of the many ghosts that haunted every moment of Klaus’s sober existence.

 

Hours and days became meaningless and melded together as Ben remained near Klaus. He could only tell time passed by the clockwork schedule of Mom’s visits to see Klaus. Every four hours she appeared with food and medicine, she stayed long enough to check Klaus’s temperature and attend to any other of his needs until she had to return to her other chores. Bored Ben spent hours gazing at the unconscious form of Klaus, entirely still after the drugs were flushed out his system and the antibiotics had eased his fever several days ago. Skin, a deathly pale the hollows under his eyes, seemed so much darker, like shadowy bruises caused by demons of insomnia. Ben stared at the bright red of Klaus’s lips and wondered if like Sleeping Beauty he could awaken him with a kiss. Embarrassed Ben turned away and picked a spot of blank wall to fixate on, with so much free time he decided to distract himself from Klaus to process the situation.

 

The first thing Ben tried to remember was how he died, the last thing he could recall clearly were the strained faces of his siblings watching from the lab door. One by one they left until Klaus remained, eyes devoid of emotion he observed Ben for several minutes. Then Klaus stepped forward as if to bridge the distance between them before he turned his back on him and walked away. The actual act that caused his death was a muddled mess of thread he couldn’t unpick, only small snatches of excruciating pain stood out in the confusion. After that, he’d spent a whole year in nothingness. Giving up Ben moved his thoughts onto where the others were, inexplicably he knew Diego, Allison and Vanya had left during his absence. Abandoning Luther and Klaus to the house filled to the brim of children's broken dreams. Anger at the others welled inside Ben, he’d died and believed foolishly the others would care for Klaus in his stead. Except his death had caused the family to fracture and drift apart, turning the Umbrella Academy into strangers who used to live under the same roof.

 

The sound of a familiar cry knocked Ben out of his thoughts, guiltily he realised more than a week had gone by since he last paid attention to the present. Out of the corner of his eye, Ben saw a splash of white and red that caused his non-existent blood to run cold. Turning his head slightly he got a better look at the small figure standing in the corner of the room. Blonde hair pulled into pigtails and tied with pink ribbons a little girl in a white dress stared at Ben, blood stained the area around where the girl’s left arm used to be. Eyes as blue as the sky and big as saucers accused Ben of something he remembered only vaguely. Next, to her more gruesome visages, he knew far to well appeared from nowhere, each of them missing arms, legs or had their intestines hanging from enormous holes in their abdomens. Finally Ben grasped the terror in Klaus’s power. Disturbed to the core Ben quickly turned his back on the other ghosts and found his brother curled in a ball at the head of the bed, a pillow wedged over his ears. The room filled with the sounds of whispers and screams as the ghosts attempted to get Klaus’s attention. Automatically Ben did what he’d always done through the years and tried to comfort Klaus.

 

“Klaus…,” the words got stuck in his throat, Ben had no idea what to say. Klaus retreated out from under the pillow and glanced up at Ben with the same devastated eyes he could never drive off for long. Face damp with tears Klaus sat up and reached out a hand to see if his eyes were deceiving him, his fingers met air as his hand went right through Ben’s forearm.

“Ben, please make them go away…,” Klaus trailed off, his voice so quiet in a room filled with the unfriendly cacophony of the dead. To Ben, Klaus seemed as small and terrified as he did after the first time he returned from the mausoleum. Coming closer to Klaus Ben stopped a few inches from the other’s face.

“Listen to my voice and close your eyes,” Ben did his level best to sooth the distressed Klaus, hoping it could alleviate his brother’s fears. Whispering the same words he always did into Klaus’s ear, “I’m right here, and they can’t hurt you while I’m around, okay?”

 

It almost looked like Ben’s appeasement had worked until Klaus ignored him to hunt for something under his mattress, a second later a baggie containing several white pills made an appearance. Pulling it open Klaus placed one out on his palm and began to lift it to his mouth, Ben recognised a return to the sea of nothing laid in that tablet and went to hold back his brother’s arm. Failing as his hands met no resistance as Klaus swallowed the pill. Lying back Klaus waited for the nirvana the drugs offered him while Ben came to terms with becoming imperceptible again. Rolling onto his side, Klaus refused to acknowledge Ben as he settled himself back at the end of the bed. Sensing his tie with the world weakening Ben rested his head against the wall and smiled dejectedly, allowing the vast sea of emptiness to receive him once more.

 

***

 

_Present Day_

 

Laid flat on his back in on the black and white tiles of Reginald’s lab, Klaus stared up at the ceiling and counted the many small cracks in the white plaster. He waited for the all-encompassing numbness of the codeine to drown out the figurative ghosts of his fucked up childhood that surrounded him. Klaus hated his visits to the doll-house of misfit toys, populated by an old cymbal monkey and Barbie transplanted straight out of the ’60s. The place he always seemed to find himself coming back to had scarcely changed in the near thirteen years of abandonment by most of the children who’d used to call it home. Luther had been the last permanent resident while Klaus only returned periodically when he got out of rehab or needed money. Each room was still as immaculate as he remembered, everything in its rightful place and neat with not a speck of dust anywhere. Even the perfect doll-like caretaker they called Mom remained static, unnaturally youthful and flawless she still wore the exact dresses from when the Seven were small. Underneath the surface, the clues that things weren’t as ideal as shown was the wrinkles and grey fur on Pogo and the deterioration of Mom’s mental faculties. Grace’s radiant smile at seeing her children together again after so long and Pogo’s stoic warmth had eased some of the anxiety gnawing inside Klaus from coming straight from rehab to attend Reginald’s memorial.

 

The reappearance of Five out of a temporal anomaly, transforming from an old dude back to not day over thirteen had sent Klaus reeling. He truly believed the next time he’d see Five it would be during a patch of forced sobriety and not hours before they scattered the ashes of their arse of a father. Reunited at last the fractures created by Ben’s death displayed how distant the Seven had become, the awkward silence spoke volumes on the withered state of the family.

 

Eventfully the Seven moved on from the strained conversation they were having in the kitchen to finish the job of dispersing the old man’s ashes in the courtyard. Of course, it wasn’t a real family function without Luther and Diego getting into a pissing contest and fighting each other, it ended with Luther’s fist punching Ben’s statue in the dick and decapitating it. The ridiculously comical situation at least had gotten a laugh out of Ben, the ghostly presence of their dead brother basking in the company of the siblings he’d believed he would never see again. Klaus for the life of him couldn’t recall the last time Ben had smiled so easily, maybe back when they were kids, and the two of them would sneak away from their father’s strict lessons to goof off. They’d bonded over having the strangest powers out of the Academy and their innate otherness from the main group. The solace Klaus and Ben found in each other had made the abuse back then bearable.

 

Afterwards one by one the Seven drifted away from one another. Vanya left without a word as usual while Five wandered off to go look for decent coffee and Diego went out on one of his nightly patrols. The last three to stay at the Academy Luther and Allison had gone to “talk” somewhere privately, ditching Klaus to his own devices. Their lapse in judgement had led to Klaus’s current circumstance of reclining on the floor of Reggie’s lab, high off opioids liberated from a locked cabinet. Next to him were the remnants of pill bottles knocked on their sides like overturned tombstones, a graveyard made of his addictions with a bottle of half empty scotch acting like the church.

 

Klaus sat up slowly, and with a trembling hand picked up the bottle and brought it to his lips, he took a generous swig of the amber liquid and pretended to not see Ben in his periphery. Doing his level best to ignore the one constant ghost in his life Klaus was forced to acknowledge him as Ben deliberately perched himself on the stretcher across from him. Black hood up Ben’s expression was withdrawn as he glared at Klaus, chiding him without words on his current behaviour. Klaus returned the judgement by sticking out his tongue at him. It was hard enough to keep the memories of this room at bay without the bullshit condemnation Ben threw at him. Honestly, Klaus had never forgiven his brother for dying, unlike the others who’d mourned and moved on, he was stuck relieving the grief over and over again. No matter how many pills Klaus took or people, he’d fucked Ben never left, always hanging around like a bad smell. The shadow of his brother’s former self was always so tantalisingly close enough to touch that Klaus would forget and unthinkingly reach out for Ben, only to be reminded of the veil of life and death that divided them. Klaus yearned for the warmth of flesh and blood of Ben's body, to hide in his chest like they’d done a thousand times as children.

 

The silence was broken by Ben as he let out an exasperated sigh, his voice filled with fatigue he spoke, “Klaus you’ve had enough, how about going to bed?”

Klaus flipped him off and chugged the rest of the scotch, unwilling to cut short his hard-won buzz. Bed meant waking up tomorrow painfully sober and with all of his self-hatred back with a vengeance. Christ, he hated making Ben watch him piss his entire life against the wall killed Klaus inside, though it wasn’t like he could tell his brother that. Their relationship over the last decade had thrived off refusing to talk about shit prior to Ben’s death, the unspoken contract between them allowed Klaus to bury years worth of animosity and abandonment under six feet of unhealthy coping mechanisms and silence. The moment the agreement broke down Klaus knew he’d scream his throat raw asking why Ben had left him alone with no other way to mute the ghosts than the drugs. Better they continued to cultivate the distance between them rather than rupture something Klaus doubted he could recover from.

 

The click-clacking sound of heels on the hardwood floor and humming echoed down the corridor and into the room. Neither Klaus or Ben moved, unconcerned with Mom catching the former wrecked on stolen drugs. Both knew full well that when Grace found Klaus, she'd smile her disconcerting smile and inquire if he needed help. Her programming never allowed her to show disappointment or anger at her wards, those emotions were primarily for Reginald. Everything discipline wise was something for her creator to meter out, letting him punish her children; however, he saw fit. She couldn’t understand that Reginald’s choice of keeping his adoptive kids in line was torture. At least to Klaus, she loved him no matter what state he was in.

 

Mom entered the room with her wicker sewing basket swinging from the crook of her elbow and her skirt swishing with every step. The usual peculiar smile plastered on her face. She stopped mid-stride when she noticed Klaus on the floor, her head tilted to the side like a bewildered puppy. Expression filled with puzzlement Grace stood still as if she was figuring out what to say. Before Klaus could speak, Mom shook her head from side to side like she was knocking the confusion from it. Ignoring Klaus, she placed her basket onto the empty stretcher and turned her back on him, stepping towards what appeared to be a blank wall. Mom pressed a hidden button concealed in the trim. A wooden panel slid to one side and revealed an open doorway with concrete stairs leading downwards. Instead of going right down Grace went to the supply closet and retrieved a bucket filled with cleaning stuff and a mop, collecting her sewing basket Mom finally started to descend the stairs. The sound of her heels cracking on each step rang through the room as she vanished into the unknown.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I plan to update this every fortnight since my writing process can be rather slow. I hope everyone enjoys what I've written.
> 
> My TUA tumblr is Unicorn-Bentacles and I can easily be contacted there


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where the warning of graphic descriptions of gore comes in. read at your own risk

_Thirteen years ago_

 

Loosely standing together in a circle the Umbrella Academy waited for their orders in the lobby of a rundown hotel a few blocks from their home. To the young heroes, it was a routine assignment compared to the often fantastical things they faced. An hour ago a doomsday cult stormed through the front doors and into the dining room, they’d massacred the limited amount of tourists eating breakfast and refused to come out. The group wasn’t the smartest considering they’d decided to strike in the offseason and at a hotel with bad reviews, to begin with. Ben nervously stood further back from the rest of the team. Klaus’s rejection of his apology just before they were called out, weighed heavy on his mind. Ben fidgeted with the zip of his jumpsuit and tried to pay attention as Luther began to give out orders.  


“Two, Three you’re to sweep the upper levels for stray combatants and evacuate trapped civilians. Three is to rumour the combatants closest to her while Two I expect you to take out the ones outside her radius,” Luther barked out as he pointed as Allison and Diego. He then turned to Klaus who’d also stood a little away from everyone else.

“Four, I need you to stay with me as back up, anyone comes near me you tell me? Got it,” Luther told Klaus, he waited for Four to nod and position himself behind Luther.

“Lastly Six, you’re going solo into the main cultists base and take the rest out,” Luther briskly ordered Ben and motioned for everyone to go.

 

Ben snapped and began to object, “Do I have to? We can disable them without my powers, and I’m tired of being the most exposed.”

Ben at that moment hated his siblings and the situations they forced him into. His powers, unlike the others, held a price he never wanted to pay, every time he used them Ben lost more of himself. Already Luther’s voice had stirred the things under his skin into excitement at the bloodshed to come. Desperately Ben tried to get Klaus’s attention and without words willed him to speak up on his behalf, he could stop this and Ben knew it. Klaus purposefully stared into nothing and made it clear that he wasn’t going to intervene. Allison rolled her eyes when Ben turned to her for help and bored with the current situation Diego played with one of his knives.

 

“Yes Six, you have to. We’re a team, and all of us need to play our part. The room only has bad people in it, it’ll be a piece of cake for you,” Luther’s voiced brooked no argument, and he shut down the conversation between him and Ben.

Ben’s resolve crumbled, once Luther made a choice there was no way to change it. He nodded in defeat, the moment he did so Allison and Diego left to carry out their part of the plan. Left alone with only Luther and Klaus in the outdated lobby Ben stayed where he was, he needed a moment to prepare himself emotionally for what was about to happen. A part of him hopefully waited for Klaus to put their issues to one side and comfort him; another part already realised that it was in vain. Ben deliberately brushed past Luther and Klaus; he hit the latter with his shoulder as he walked towards the glass double doors of the dining room. The beasts under his skin writhed in anticipation as he reached them, eager at the freedom and carnage to come. He pulled one side of the doors open while at the same time unzipped the front of his jumpsuit.  


He caught a quick glimpse of the carnage inside the dining hall as he entered into through the door. The ten or so bodies rested next to tables laden with the food they had been eating before their murder. Ben closed his eyes and stepped forward several paces, jaw clenched the familiar sensation of paralysis took over as the tentacles began to agonisingly slip out. A long time ago Klaus once asked him what it felt like; Ben never had an answer until a few years ago. It was like he’d been kept awake during an operation as a surgeon pulled out his organs, aware of the pain and every movement but unable to cry out to stop.  


The tentacles probed the room for their targets and after finding them started their slaughter. Ben listened as screams reverberated against the walls as people were torn apart with revolting damp squelches and hideous cracks. Their lives and voices silenced forever by the nameless things living inside Ben. He did everything to distance himself from the monstrous acts he allowed the abominations to commit, though Ben could never keep it off his conscious. Fragments of gore and viscera landed onto Ben’s hair and coated his jumpsuit, some of it found its way in through the gap of the open zipper and slipped down his legs.  Ben longed for it to be over already so he could go home and puke his guts out, Klaus might even feel guilty enough afterwards to snuggle with him tonight.

 

Time froze as Ben was knocked from his self pitying thoughts by the hushed sounds of snuffling. With an immense effort, he forced his eyes open and located the source of the noise. His heart stopped. A girl no older than six, her golden blonde hair pulled into pigtails tied with pink ribbons, crouched over the lifeless body of her mother. The woman’s chest gaped open with a wound made by a gunshot at point blank; her snow-white sweater stained a darkening red. Tears and snot rolled down the girl’s face as fruitlessly tugged at her mother’s sleeve to rouse her from her permanent sleep, the hem of her white lace trimmed dress splattered in the blood of her mother.

“Mommy, I’m scared,” her soft cry cut through the noise as Ben watched in dismay as a tentacle crept into view and towards the little girl.  


Revulsion pooled in Ben’s guts. He couldn’t sit idly by as a child’s future was by someone styled as a hero. The girl was innocent unlike himself, Ben’s hands were already stained with so much blood and to add a child to his list of kills would ruin him further. During a frenzy, the control Ben held over the monsters was limited, he could nudge them here or there but not stop them until they decided to finish. An idea bloomed inside Ben which should’ve disturbed him more than it did. Ben urged the colossal deep red tentacles in a new direction and watched in satisfaction as the one hunting the girl changed its course towards him instead. It snugly wound around his wrist; Ben felt the chitin inside the suckers bite into his flesh as it began to pull. In one fluid motion, his lower arm was torn out the elbow socket with a sickening crack. Intense pain flared through the newly exposed nerve endings in Ben’s arm and stunned him. Ben watched in detached curiosity as a red stream of blood gushed out of the stump, splattering onto the ground with a sound like a flooded stream.

 

Unseen two more tentacles coiled tightly around Ben’s ankles and yanked with enough force to cause a sound like a shotgun to echo through the room. The world span on its axis as Ben’s legs were ripped out from under him and he tumbled backwards onto the hardwood floor. The pain indescribable Ben’s vision greyed out as the tentacles picked him over like a vulture, they rendered flesh off his exposed bones and gouged out tissue from his chest, neck and face. Finally, the monsters retreated inch by slow inch back to their dimension and allowed Ben to go limp. Discarded in a sluggishly growing puddle of warm blood Ben floated in adrenaline-induced euphoria. The metallic scent and coppery taste of blood hung heavy in Ben’s nose and mouth as he waited for someone to come.  


The door crashed open, and Ben listened as Luther distantly called out, “Ben what happened, oh holy shit. Wait Klaus stay back.”

Ben heard two sets of footsteps rush towards him, one faster than the other. Someone knelt beside him and gently cradled his neck in their arms. They caressed his cheek and let out a mournful howl of anguish.  


“Ben, Ben please talk to me. Come on you asshole answer me,” Klaus cried out a beg above him, his sweet voice a welcome comfort. He then babbled on, “Luther he has no fucking legs. What are we supposed to fucking do.”

 

Klaus removed the domino mask off Ben’s eyes his hands shaking as he did so. It took a few seconds for his vision to adjust as the world changed from white to a blurry mess of colours and shapes. The first thing to come into proper was Klaus, wonderful, beautiful, sweet Klaus. Pale face unmarred by the mask his expression contorted in despair, tears rolled down his cheek and landed onto Ben’s face. The reality of his impending death swept through Ben, and for the first time, everything was clear to him. Over the years he’d sacrificed bit by bit of himself to his family until Ben had nought left for himself, to die now meant nothing. To end life on his terms was a blessing, soon his pain would be over. At least he’d used his final act to be the hero his father had drilled into him. Ben attempted to find the little girl and make sure she’d made it out safe, only to be blocked by Klaus’s arms. Ben hoped she got to grow up and have the life he never would.

 

The last regret Ben held laid in Klaus and the anguish he’d inadvertently caused, and he wished there was time to resolve the tension between them. He hadn’t set out yesterday to hurt Klaus as he did, he just wanted to let spill the words never far from his lips and let him know how much he meant to him. Ben never expected it to backfire as it did or for Klaus to run from him. A smile crept over his mouth as Ben stared into the green of Klaus’s eyes that always seemed to be missing something he could never fix. In an act to soothe Ben attempted with a limb he swore still existed to wipe away Klaus’s torment like so many times in the past, only to see a stump wave in the air and spurt a small jet of blood onto Klaus’s jumpsuit.  


“No, Ben don’t move. Dad’s on his way,” Luther cut in, alerting Ben to his presence. Luther had also removed his mask at some point, and to Ben, in the warm fluorescent lighting, he appeared far too young and pale. A boy forced to bear the burden of a weight far too massive for his shoulders and not the man he pretended to be.  


Air started to become harder and harder to get into his lungs as Ben felt his life drain away. Privately he mused that dying was very much like drowning in an endlessly deep open ocean, as the seconds passed Ben found it impossible to stay afloat on the water.

“Klaus, I think I’m done,” the words slipped out of Ben’s mouth with a cough and a trickle of blood that ran down his chin.

“Shush, don’t say that okay. We’re gonna get you home, and Mom and Dad will fix you up as good as new. Just stay with me Ben,” the words tumbled from Klaus as held onto hope and denied Ben’s fate.

“’m sorry, I l-” the sentence died on Ben’s lips as he finally gave up and allowed himself to sink into the abyss of death.

  
  
  
  


Deeper

  
  


And

  
  


Deeper

  
  


Ben sunk

  
  


Into

  
  


Nothing

  
  


Until

  
  


Something pulled him back.

  
  


***

  


_Present Day_  


Curious at the secret hidden in the infirmary Klaus remained on the floor as the sound of Mom’s footsteps faded from earshot. Klaus decided to hold on for a few minutes before he’d go and check out the stairway, anxious Mom would return at any moment. As Klaus waited, he watched as Ben abruptly stood up and restlessly started to pace back and forth in the small room. Klaus guessed that like himself the trauma of the house had gotten to Ben. Every time they came back here whenever Klaus needed a place to crash Ben’s behaviour became fractious, at points he’d even disappear until Klaus left again. It hurt when Ben would do that, despite all the drugs to escape the ghost Klaus liked it best when he could see him. Over the last few years to see Ben intact and growing older with him brought Klaus comfort at his worst. He knew deep down that it was a fantasy his mind had concocted, a leftover from the trauma caused by Ben’s brutal death.  


Klaus gripped harder onto the empty bottle of scotch as a wave of desolation threatened to crash over him. It was a fucking dumb idea to get high in the last place he’d seen Ben in the flesh. Ingrained in his memory was the image of Ben’s face, ruined by sucker indentations and a hole so large in his cheek Klaus could see his teeth and tongue with his dark eyes closed forever. The regret of not mending things when he had a chance hung heavy over Klaus, huddled in the infirmary’s doorway he’d tried to stay near Ben. Until Reginald decided the last of the Umbrella Academy needed to go to bed. Afterwards, Ben’s body vanished from the infirmary, and his name was never mentioned by their father again. Reginald hadn’t even held a funeral for his lost son, the statue in the courtyard erected as an afterthought. One day Klaus woke up as one half of a pair and by the end of it, he was alone.  


Before he could circle further down the spiral of remorse, Klaus shook himself out of it. He placed the empty bottle on the floor and scooted on his ass to the nearest wall, Klaus clumsily used it to levy himself onto his knees and then again to stand up. He kept one hand flat against the wall to steady himself as he walked towards the darkened stairway. Anxiety bubbled in Klaus’s gut as Ben stopped his endless pacing to cut him off at the top of the stairs. He stood deliberately in the way so Klaus couldn’t go down, his arms folded across his chest. Ben seemed to struggle to stay put and not vanish into the aether.

 

“I think you should find Pogo or Luther, we don’t know what Dad kept down there,” Ben cautioned, his dark eyes not quite meeting Klaus’s.

“Why? No one ever listens to me,” Klaus’s patience had worn thin as he snapped back, “I’m the lying junkie fuck up of the family, and everyone has made it pretty clear I’m not to be trusted.”  


To end the conversation Klaus walked straight through Ben and started his descent into the unknown. Klaus was apprehensive at what secrets he might uncover at the bottom of the stairs, Ben’s reaction to the whole situation unnerved him. The stairway was made out of featureless concrete set into the foundations and lit weakly by antique electric lamps hung on the walls. Step by step Klaus walked downwards into what he believed could be hell; he wouldn’t be fucking surprised if the entrance were the Academy. Reggie did like to torture his children like a demon pulled from the pits of hell. Claustrophobia started to needle at Klaus as went past another landing. The stone walls began to close in on him as he paused to rest. His chest tightened as panic surged through Klaus as he shut his eyes and took a deep breath in and forced himself to keep walking.

 

Incessantly memories of the hours spent in the cursed mausoleum played on the back of Klaus’s eyelids, each one reminding him how little Reginald cared for his kids. Finally, Klaus hit the bottom of the stairs and opened his eyes. He came face to face with an old iron door with a small reinforced window set at eye level. A bright almost blinding light streamed into the dim stairway. Shaken Klaus turned his head and checked to if Ben had followed him. Barely a hair's breadth away Ben stood behind Klaus, his face drawn he looked reluctant to be down here. Klaus paused for a moment and counted to ten before he grabbed the iron handle of the door and opened it.

 

The first thing to hit Klaus as entered the room was the smell, a rank mixture of dried blood, human waste and old sweat inadequately masked by a fuck ton of bleach, with an added undercurrent of something sharp he couldn't identify. The room from what Klaus could see was a concrete box, illuminated by a single brilliant fluorescent light fixture hung from the ceiling and a thin light blue curtain bisected the area into two unequal spaces. Veins of thick blood red mould that originated from behind the curtain climbed along the walls and floor,  Klaus had never seen anything like it before and noticed it faintly pulsed like a heartbeat. Rusted metal shelves covered in ropes of the mould lined the western wall, filled with specimen jars containing a myriad of things floating in formaldehyde. Against the eastern wall stood an old rotted wooden desk, the surface littered with piles of paper, a few fountain pens and stainless steel surgical equipment. For a place that seemed abandoned to Klaus some things were dusted and clean.  


The floor Klaus noticed wasn’t completely flat as he first thought, in the centre, it sloped gradually into a basin that led to a drain set into the concrete. Stained with nameless dark fluids, Klaus figured out it was the source of the overpowering bleach odour. Silhouetted behind the light blue curtains, Klaus made out two distinct shadows. One he recognised unmistakably as Mom while the other was harder to identify. All Klaus could tell was that they were laid out on a hospital bed and hooked up to various machines. The only sounds he could hear in the peculiar room was the mechanical whir of a ventilator, the steady beep of a heart monitor and Mom’s regular habit of humming as she sewed.  


The whole room reminded Klaus of the old derelict hospital he used to squat in during the winter, filled to the brim with the past ghosts of human suffering and indifference. His skin crawled as he remembered the few times he’d been sober in that place, the ghastly spectres of long-dead patients who crowded around Klaus and screamed til his ears rang. Unease surged down his frayed nerves as his hard-won high bled away into nameless dread. Ben drew his attention as he walked passed Klaus and settled in front of one of the shelves. Hands shoved into his pockets. Ben refused to face Klaus fully and kept his gaze firmly aimed at the floor. In the unforgiving light a grim sense of age seemed to have overtaken Ben’s features, his demeanour radiated energy that he wanted to be anywhere but here.

Almost unheard by Klaus, Ben mumbled, “We shouldn’t be in here Klaus. I think it’s best you go back upstairs and let someone else deal with this.”  


Klaus gave serious thought about the suggestion; he could trudge back upstairs and find either Allison or Luther whenever they were. He’d disturb their long-awaited reunion with an outlandish tale of a secret room, but Klaus knew far too well they’d accuse him of lying and honestly he couldn’t be fucked to deal with that. Plus another fear troubled Klaus, the thought of Reginald Hargreeves alive in the flesh behind that curtain ready to re-traumatise his kids all over again. It was right up the old bastard’s alley to pull shit like faking his death just to force everyone back together. Klaus didn’t want to hurt any of his siblings until he had undeniable proof that it was actually Reginald and not something else.  


Nervous Klaus chose to leave the curtain until the end and check the shelves and desk for evidence first. He crept towards the nearest shelf while Ben intentionally blocked Klaus from being able to view the contents.

“Please Klaus, whatever is down here you don’t want to see it,” Ben pleaded in a hurt tone.

Klaus paused for a moment, puzzled at why Ben sounded in fear of this place. He couldn't have known about this room before they came down here, right? Klaus brushed away his doubts and walked passed Ben who shrunk away from him. He picked up the first jar he could get his hands on to and read the label written in the neat handwriting of their father.

  


_00.06 A Specimen_

_Date 05/22/1999_

  


He found it strange that a jar with Ben’s designation on it was far away from the standard lab Reginald used until Klaus rotated it and held the glass jar in the light. He stopped breathing as processed the sight of an off-white tentacle tip as it bumped against the inside of the jar, the five-pointed star of the suckers unique to Ben’s main monster. It was obvious to Klaus where it’d come from. He dropped the jar which shattered on the concrete ground, the tentacle bounced out and flopped with a wet thump a short distance away. Eyes wide open Klaus examined the other jars he could easily reach. Every. Single. One contained a severed piece of an eldritch beast and labelled with Ben’s number.

“Klaus please stop, turn around and pretend you never this. I never ever wanted you to find out about this place,” solemn Ben whispered gently right into Klaus’s ear, he mouth so close that if he were alive, Klaus would’ve felt his breath.

 

He backed away from the shelves of horror and Ben, and his entire body shook as he realised the implications of this room. Memories of Ben after his private training sessions flitted through Klaus’s mind; he’d always come back withdrawn and touch averse. Now Klaus knew why the knowledge at what Reginald committed down here to Ben broke his heart. How could Ben keep this a secret from him? Klaus had always told him about the mausoleum. Klaus stared at Ben and took in pain on his face, and he wanted more than anything to take it away. He longed to kiss the ghost of the boy he loved and give some comfort to him. Instead, Klaus clenched his fists and stomped over to the curtain. He didn’t know what he’d do if Reginald were behind it. He just knew that whatever he did was too good for the bastard.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is probably a million mistakes, but I can't stare at this any longer. I hope you enjoy my trash.


	3. Chapter 3

_Thirteen years and one day ago_

  
The last beams of winter sunlight streamed through Ben’s attic room window before the sun disappeared behind a building taking the light with it. Back against the wall, Ben sat cross-legged on his bed with a book clasped in his hands. Every few minutes he turned the page of the dog eared and battered copy of Flowers in the Attic Ben found in a second-hand book store, bought on one of his routine excursions sneaking out the house. Not the best-written thing in the world the story did what he needed it to, it helped him forget the attic he was trapped in and the things forever just underneath his skin. Sundays were always a drag, blocked out for individual study; it entailed everyone staying in their rooms from breakfast to dinner with no break for lunch. Father had told them it was to stop anyone getting distracted from work, a laughable excuse considering other than Luther everyone else rebelled and used the time for fun things.

 

Ben’s chosen form of rebellion wasn’t the most out there; he rarely left the grounds like Klaus who would be out the house from dawn until dusk. No Ben instead ignored the papers piled on his desk and used the time to read. Ratty well-thumbed books bought with his meagre allowance lined the bookshelves in his secluded room and held Ben’s sanctuary from Father’s attention. Most of them Ben couldn’t claim were great pieces of literature, he’d found some gems in the mix even if most of the books were trash. He liked every story despite flaws for nothing in life could be perfect, and each one was a mirror into the real world. They let Ben escape the oppressive walls of the Academy without ever taking a step outside or fear of getting caught, and he'd seen the aftermath of discipline metered out for said indiscretion and avoided his own tailored punishment like the plague. Every book he read helped to fill in the blanks of things held back by Father out of malice or plain ignorance at how to care for children. Ben had learnt long ago the truth of his family. They weren’t normal or healthy. Father could never love them for who they were, just as soldiers he used for his wars.

 

Today he pretended the world outside his four walls did not exist as hours passed and tonight’s dinner loomed over Ben. He loathed evening meals the most, and Ben spent each one in pain as he suppressed the eldritch thing inside him while he faked happiness at being there. Ben was perpetually afraid of losing control at the table. He’d woken up from too many nightmares where Ben sat covered in the viscera and organs of his family as their mangled corpses surrounded him, he wanted to be sick just thinking about it. Ben could blow off tonight, but he’d already dodged two dinners this week and Father enjoyed it most when everyone attended Sunday dinner. Father saw his children as objects rather than people and expected them to be on their best behaviour in front of him. It tore Ben inside to know Father would never admit he’d abused and broken all seven of them.

 

He’d grown so tired of hiding behind a facade of faux cheerfulness and kindness just to please the people around him. None of them knew the secret door in the infirmary which led to the stage of many of Ben’s nightmares, the concealed room where Father experimented on him. That Ben allowed Father to cut pieces of himself away because if he refused someone else would end up on the end of Father’s wrath. The bastard had proved it by locking Klaus in the mausoleum for two days after Ben said no once. He had thought about running away, but there was no way out. Ben couldn’t leave without a guilty conscious, staying meant he kept up the act of a perfect hero to the public while being the anchor Klaus needed to remain stable. He couldn’t abandon Klaus. Trapped in an unwinnable situation Ben chose to hold onto the promise made when he was too young to understand the ramifications of it, he’d leave the day he could bring Klaus along with him.

 

The bedroom door crashed open, and Ben’s gaze remained firmly on his book, the intrusion regular whenever someone required some time in quiet company. His room the furthest from the central part of the house made it an excellent place to chill when things got overwhelming for his siblings. Over the years stuck inside the academy each of the seven had gained a role to help deal with the daily abuse and lack of love. Ben had become the kind one, the sibling who would sit in comfortable silence with no expectation of conversation. Luther cared about everyone’s well-being and gave the best hugs, Diego listened to their problems without judgement and Allison gossiped about mundane things as she painted whoever’s nails. Five before his untimely departure into the unknown handed out wisdom like an old philosopher even though no one took his usually good advice, Vanya was ordinary and gentle in spite of her isolation. Out of everyone Ben’s second favourite sibling to spend time with was Vanya.

 

At the top of the list would always be Klaus. Klaus who could make even the saddest person smile with a wink or a joke. The one piece of pure sunshine in the family and for all his faults truly cared about everyone. He was beautiful and fearless, and the biggest tragedy in the world would be Klaus not seeing the effect he had on people. That Ben had fallen harder for him than he should. At some point, Klaus had lost himself inside a haze of drugs and alcohol to chase away the ghosts, and in doing so forgot he held Ben’s heart in his grasp.

 

Too curious to not peek from the edge of his book at the trespasser, the corner of Ben’s lips twitched as he watched Klaus stagger into his room like a newborn deer on drugs. Which to be fair Klaus probably had gotten high and even when sober was a massive klutz. A cardigan two sizes too big draped over his shoulders Klaus had chosen warmth over fashion, the only concession was a band tee knotted at the front to expose his mid-drift. Inwardly ecstatic that out of the five people it could be, Ben’s visitor was the person wanted more than anything to have near him. Unceremoniously Klaus flopped onto the empty space next to Ben, and the elderly springs groaned under the weight as he settled himself into a comfortable position. Laid out with his legs dangling over the end of the bed Klaus stared up at Ben, his expression unreadable as he waited for Ben to pay attention to him. Ben wondered the ulterior motive for the impromptu visit, study days for Klaus were when he left the academy from dawn until dusk and rarely ever before dinner. There was only one way to find out.

 

Nonchalantly Ben removed one hand off his book and dropped it onto the bed covers near Klaus’s head. Without a word, Klaus picked it up and pulled it close to his mouth, one by one he placed a feathery soft kiss on each pad of Ben’s fingers before he finished by planting a kiss on the centre of his palm. Ben’s smile broke through at the attention as the thing inside him stirred at the touch. A simple and well thought out action that was entirely Klaus. A well-trodden ritual learnt by Klaus after one too many times when Ben returned from training terrified and disgusted by his own body. Ben struggled with physical affection due to the atrocities he’d committed and the real fear of harming anyone close to him. Hands were the safest place to touch him, and Klaus showed how much he cared by showering them with love.

.  
Ben abandoned his book and placed it to one side while he grabbed Klaus’s hand tugged for him to sit up. Leisurely Klaus stretched and sat upright, he scooted close to Ben until they were shoulder to shoulder. Almost simultaneously the two of them turned their heads to face each other, lips barely inches away from each other Klaus was to first to lean forward and bridge the gap. The kiss to Ben was as natural as breathing, another way to show Klaus he deserved the world without actually saying it. He allowed Klaus to lead, a way to give him some semblance of control in the chaos of their lives.

 

Their relationship had only changed in the last month, and a silly argument had ended with Ben kissing Klaus and them not talking for a few days until Klaus returned it with a smile. The two of them fitted together almost perfectly, and Ben believed they should’ve done this sooner. Neither of them had yet to define what their relationship was, things were fine the way they were, and Ben didn’t want to rock the boat. While Ben lived for Klaus’s attention, he refused to pressure him into anything, both of them forced into situations by Father which had scarred them and Ben didn’t want to be like him. Klaus needed freedom. He was manic passion and sunlight that had to exist out in the world. Compared to Ben’s constant silent melancholy and instinct to hide, to tie Klaus to him wouldn’t be fair and he couldn’t do it, at least not yet. Maybe one day in the future after being liberated from the shackles of the academy he would ask Klaus to be something more until those days came Ben kept his mouth shut.

 

Klaus deepened the kiss and Ben allowed himself to get lost in it. He tasted the faint traces of weed, cigarettes and spearmint gum on Klaus’s tongue, the latter what his brother tried badly to cover the first two with. Klaus’s hands fidgeted in his lap as he struggled to stop them from roaming. Ben took pity by lacing his fingers through Klaus’s right hand and placed his other on the back of his neck. They wouldn’t go much further than this, Ben wanted more, but he had his reasons for keeping their physical relationship from developing. He had led Klaus to believe it was because of his own complicated issues with his body and the beasts he shared it with. The truth was Ben refused to have his first anything while still living here, those memories should be perfect, and the academy stained even the happiest of things. He’d planned for years to figure out a way to escape with Klaus by his side, he dreamed of exploring the world together and find somewhere they could call home. Maybe a cottage near the sea or a cabin tucked away in the woods.

 

The kiss ended when Klaus pulled away to give both of them a chance to catch their breath and to stop things from escalating. Ben took his hand off Klaus’s neck while he kept their hands linked between them. Klaus slid down the wall until he could comfortably rest his head against Ben’s shoulder and stretched his legs out. Frozen Ben sensed a tentacle slip out from the collar of his hoodie and rubbed Klaus’s face with the flat side, and it still weirded him out that the things liked Klaus as much as him. The monsters known to the world as killing machines held a soft spot for Klaus and would randomly pop out and glow white whenever he was nearby.

 

In silence, they sat as Klaus let and enjoyed the caress of the alien appendage. Paralysed Ben pondered over how none of the seven understood love fully. The words only ever uttered by the robot they called Mom, she could speak such wonderful endearments to her children, but they were as empty as her humanity. Without a role model, Ben’s childhood had been filled with him comforting his siblings the best he could, though the distance intentionally instilled by Father had kept the seven separate from each other. He’d fought tooth and nail to stay close to Klaus through Father’s best efforts to split them apart. What Ben knew of love came from the books he’d read and they were a pale comparison to the feelings Klaus brought out in him.

 

The tentacle retreated to its home dimension and released Ben from his immobility. He turned his head and kissed the top of Klaus’s head. Thoughts on how he felt about Klaus still ran through his mind as his tongue loosened and Ben whispered into the dark curls of Klaus’s hair.

“Y’know I think I love you.”

 

The words seemed to change the serene energy of the room into something heavy. Klaus remained still for a moment before he de-tangled his hand out of Ben’s and shuffled down the bed away from him. He tripped over his own feet as he stood up and landed on the floor with a loud thump. In the dim light of dusk, they stared at each other in leaden silence, the wounded expression on Klaus’s face made Ben pause. The pain had filled Klaus’s green eyes as Ben noticed the shine of tears on his cheeks, the water sparkled like a diamond as the light from the window caught it. Ben knew he’d fucked up the delicate balance between them and it broke his heart. Tongue tied the apology he wanted to blurt out never left his mouth as Klaus picked himself off the floor and turned his back on Ben. Klaus stormed out the room and pulled the door closed behind him with a bang. Before Ben could follow to try and repair the situation the bell for dinner started to ring its shrill cry and stopped him in his tracks.

 

Dinner, as expected, was an awkward affair, the educational records of Ben’s youth were long gone and left behind only the noise of silverware scraping against the bone china plates. Ben fixed his attention onto the chunk of roast beef at the end of his fork, he pushed it into a puddle of brown gravy and then forced the morsel into his mouth. He chewed slowly as the guilt from earlier grew bigger and hung over Ben. The chair next to him stood empty and darkened his mood further, even if Klaus never typically came to Sunday dinner and the space tormented Ben. The monsters squirmed and wriggled underneath his skin and nauseated him, and he could barely swallow anything without it almost coming back up. No one else had seemed to notice his bad mood and Ben wished Five was still here. He would’ve seen through the act and helped him.

 

Ben could only focus on where Klaus might have run off to, scenes of parties and strangers giving Klaus what Ben had refused flashed through his mind and tortured him. Ben had no idea where to start his search even if he attempted to go out into the city to look for Klaus. He hated himself for doing the thing he vowed never to do to Klaus; Ben had just hoped he’d felt the same way. Ben wanted dinner to be over already, and he couldn’t excuse himself early without a clean plate first. Bite by bite he ate through the queasiness nestled deep in his stomach and neatly placed his knife and fork on the plate as he finished. Ben left the table without a word and swiftly departed from the dining room to return upstairs.

 

Instead of going back to his room Ben into Klaus’s to wait for him to come back. Overwhelmed he took off his shoes and placed them by the door, he padded towards the bed and laid down on it. He curled up into a ball and breathed in the reassuring smell of Klaus’s blankets, finally alone Ben allowed his mask to crack as the full impact of everything hit him like a ton of bricks. He cried so long and so hard the pillow beneath his head became drenched in tears and until his eyes were empty. Eventually, he managed to doze off into a troubled sleep, broken almost every hour whenever Ben heard a noise he thought must be Klaus. At some point, he passed out completely and was only woken up by the mission alarm blaring in the corridor. Ben checked the alarm clock on the nightstand and realised it was almost ten am. Hastily he stood up and ran out the room without bothering to grab his shoes on the way.

 

Ben flew up the stairs to his attic bedroom and opened the door just enough to squeeze through. He pulled his mission jumpsuit out from under the stack of clean laundry on a chair, Ben stripped off his crumpled clothing and threw them into a corner. He scrambled to wiggle into the black and white suit without bothering to zip it up properly as he shoved his feet into a pair of back combat boots. Ben then retrieved his mask from the recesses of his desk drawer. He stopped a moment to look into a mirror and affix it to his face before he dashed back out of the room.

 

He took the stairs two at a time as attempted to catch up with everyone else. Once at the bottom he shot out the stairwell towards the foyer and collided with someone in the doorway. Slightly dazed Ben almost fell over and believed it was Luther until he noticed it was actually Klaus. His brother looked like shit with eyes bloodshot from a night of crying, already suited up Klaus held his mask between his fingers. Ben automatically reached out and grabbed hold of Klaus’s elbow so he could say sorry, except his words pre-emptively cut off as Klaus yanked his arm back. Klaus backed up, and Ben watched as he disappeared through the doorway. Ben sighed. He couldn’t mend this as easy as he wanted.

 

“Time is of the essence Number Four and Six. We don’t have the luxury of tardiness. Hurry up,” from somewhere near the front of the academy Ben heard Father call him. He zipped his suit up and trailed after Klaus; he did not know this was his last day alive or the impact his death would create on the already fragile family. In those moments before his final mission Ben’s mind filled with ways to make things up to Klaus and the hope he held to one day see the ocean with his brother.

 

***

 

_Present Day_

  
Klaus stood in front of the hospital blue of the curtains with an edge of one bunched in his right hand and hesitated to pull it to aside. The fury and anxiety inside fought each other relentlessly as he gathered the courage to learn the truth hidden from him. The sharp odour he couldn’t place before smelt the strongest here, like rancid battery acid it brought a bitter tasting bile to the back of Klaus’s throat. He forced himself to swallow it and closed his eyes. Klaus counted to three and tore the curtain to one side as if it was a band-aid he needed to pull off in one go. Eyes opened a slither Klaus first concentrated on Mom, sat on a generic plastic chair she stopped sewing and stared at him with a hollow smile. Klaus’s gaze moved past her, and finally, he got a good view of the person this room seemed to belong to.

 

Sick realisation swept through Klaus like a bad hit of heroin, and his heartbeat thudded loudly in his ears as his chest tightened. He’d honestly fucking believed he would find dear old dad, inexplicably alive and tended to by Mom. No this was way way way worse, and Klaus wanted to be dead more than anything just to go into the afterlife to kick the ever loving shit out of his father. God fucking damn it, he thought jars filled the with cut off pieces of Ben’s monsters was the lowest Reginald could sink, and yet somehow he managed to go lower than that.

 

The metal slab used instead of a hospital bed had entirely been covered by the red mould. Vines of it hung off the side and grew onto the floor where it split off into different directions and climbed up the wall. Cradled in the middle of a nest made from the mould and laid out on the table was Ben, emaciated and with a tube shoved down his throat and connected to a ventilator to help him breathe. He looked like a corpse prepped for an autopsy, an almost Y incision carved into his chest started at Ben’s sternum and ended underneath the stained blanket that covered his lower body. Four stainless steel surgical retractors held the wound wide open and had filled with a dark blue ichor which shifted unnaturally under the light without a visible source causing it. The grisly damage inflicted by the tentacles over a decade ago had miraculously healed. The limbs Klaus clearly remembered strewn about the blood-soaked hotel floor were back though different. All of the mangled and torn tissue had been replaced with dirty white flesh instead of the standard colour of Ben’s skin. It resembled near identically to the beast which Ben controlled and had maimed him.

 

Klaus resisted the urge to vomit until he lost the struggle and turned to one side as to not hit Ben with sick. He doubled over as he threw up the burning contents of his stomach onto the concrete floor, scotch never tasted any good when it came back up. His chest clenched like a painful vice as Klaus heaved to expel more out of his already empty stomach, his body still and he spat out the last of the bile. Klaus nearly jumped out of his skin as Mom placed a cold hand on the back of his neck to soothe him. He wiped his mouth with his hand while above him Grace asked him a question.

 

“Oh dear, are you okay honey? Do you need me to get you some water and a bowl?”

Grace crouched down until she was at eye level with Klaus, her expression worried she moved her hand to his chin and raised his head up a tiny bit.

Klaus weakly smiled and replied “Please.”

She returned the smile and planted a light kiss on his cheek. Grace took her hand off Klaus’s face and stood upright. Grace straightened her pink skirt and went over to double check she’d placed her sewing back in her basket. Once sure she went over to the table and monitored Ben’s vital signs, happy the machines and IVs were doing there job correctly and bestowed a kiss on his unresponsive forehead. Grace carefully stepped over the puddle of vomit as she walked away towards the door. After going through it, she forgot to close the door as she began the journey back upstairs.

 

Klaus made himself stand up straight and almost jumped again in so many minutes when he found Ben had migrated next to him at some point. His brow furrowed in worry Ben had pulled his hoodie down. Over the years Klaus had grown used to Ben’s appearance, blinded by familiarity he’d forgotten how handsome the ghost was. Klaus struggled to rectify the Ben in front of him with the two other versions he held in his mind. The healthy intact ghost he saw an illusion of what Ben should be if Klaus had stuck up for him a decade prior, a delusion cooked up to cover the guilt he carried with him. Then the truth underneath the lie, Ben barely sixteen and covered in gore, his limbs gone and his face ruined. And now Klaus added the emaciated body a few feet away, alive and dead at the same time.

 

He wondered how the fuck Ben had become a ghost if his body technically hadn’t died, Klaus had never come across this issue before. Klaus also thought about what the new truth would do to the family, Ben’s death had fractured them into pieces, and the impact of Reginald’s actions might do it all over again. Life really had a twisted sense of humour, on the day they scattered their shit of a father on the wet ground of the courtyard, Klaus had found out the person he missed and loved the most still lived.

 

The need to feel something solid had Klaus ignore the ghost and step towards the dormant body of Ben. Close enough now to see in detail Klaus noticed the mould he’d mistakenly believed was just wrapped around Ben actually grew out the veins on his exposed skin. The red mass pulsed creepily in time with the nearby heart monitor and grossed Klaus out. He pushed past his revulsion and tentatively reached out his left hand to touch the part of Ben’s face he’d last seen mutilated. The skin felt cold and clammy as Klaus brushed his fingers across the healthy part of his cheek and over the regenerated section. He noticed it was similar to the eldritch monster, slightly rubbery with an almost human flesh like texture.

 

From the pool of ichor, a small tentacle slipped out and crept near to Klaus’s hand, without a thought he went to meet it and expected it to welcome him as it used it. The tentacle surged forwards and slapped his hand before it shrank back, it retreated into its puddle with a quiet splash.

 

For a moment the world stayed still as Klaus nursed his injured hand until the walls and floor began to tremble and shake. Out of the mould and the blue liquid, countless tentacles erupted into the room. The tentacles and the alien flesh on Ben’s skin glowed a dark red which cast the room in a hellish light. Several of the appendages coiled around Klaus’s legs and climbed his body, he fought to escape their grip and failed as the tentacles pinned his arms against his sides. Suckers cut through the fabric of his coat and into the flesh beneath, which royally sucked since he loved this coat and the bastards had ruined it. Hoisted into the air, Klaus watched on as the walls cracked under the pressure of the beast as it pushed and probed the concrete in an attempt to escape. A writhing mass of the otherworldly red limbs had already found a route through the open door and had vanished up the stairs. Klaus heard the groan of bent mental as the rust covered shelves were crushed and tipped over. The jars of horror fell onto the ground and exploded like gruesome bombs, the contents bounced and flopped across the floor.

 

Panicked Klaus searched for Ben in the chaos as another tentacle wrapped around his neck and began to squeeze. He usually liked being choked and be all for this except he couldn’t enjoy the situation, the big death a far more likely outcome rather than the fun little death he wished for. Finally, he cautioned sight of the ghost and with his last breath called out.

 

“Help-” Klaus got cut off as the tentacle blocked his windpipe, the force hard enough to burst the blood vessels in his eyes and turned his vision blotchy.

Klaus hopelessly grappled to breathe in another lungful of air and shout at Ben once more. Soon he’d lose consciousness and the thought of never waking loomed over Klaus. Death didn’t scare him as much as the real fear of becoming another ghost that haunted the halls of the Academy. No more oxygen left in his system Klaus’s lungs burned as the edges of the world faded away.

 

Eyes almost closed shut Klaus detachedly watched Ben wade through the thrashing pile of tentacles, he walked like a man on death row as he made towards the stainless steel table. Ben stopped just before it and turned to look at Klaus, and his appearance had changed into the grim visage on the table. His face lit by the white light from his own skin, Ben’s eyes were no longer brown. His sclera had become pitch black and with a deep blue iris reminiscent of the ocean, both deadly and fascinating in Klaus’s addled state. His expression conflicted Ben smiled one final time at Klaus and then placed his hand on his shoulder.

 

Ben vanished.

 

The room froze, and the tentacles loosened their death grip on Klaus, he took in a couple of deep breaths and believed things were over at last. He hadn’t grasped fully yet what had occurred, Klaus just knew a great sadness filled him. Then things went to shit as the tentacles went into overdrive, uncoordinated they spasmed and held tighter onto Klaus. Air stolen from him Klaus passed the fuck out.

 

A few minutes later Klaus woke up to something familiar rubbing against his face. The last tentacle left pulsed white and acted concerned for Klaus, distantly he remembered white meant happy in the strange language of the interdimensional beast. Klaus pushed himself into a sitting position and discovered the only hints of what just happened were the flakes of dried mould in small piles and the shards of glass scattered on the floor. For the first time in years, Klaus realised he was alone.

 

Absentmindedly he stroked the tentacle for comfort as the idea of Ben no longer being around him set in. Careful to avoid any glass Klaus got up off the ground and allowed the lone tentacle to lead him through the destruction to Ben. At the table, Klaus brushed the red flakes off Ben’s skin and noticed the soft white hue of the alien patches of flesh. Klaus sobbed in relief at the colour. Ben was back where he should be now. He shed his jacket and arranged it over Ben’s chest to cover the incision. Klaus settled onto the plastic chair with his right hand still on Ben’s body, reluctant to say goodbye at any contact to the miracle in front of him. Far off he heard the echoes of three different sets of footsteps on the stairs and waited for the new arrivals. As Grace entered behind her stood Luther and Allison, stunned they stared at the destroyed room. Klaus waved his hello hand at them like this was a normal situation and smiled as he gestured at Ben. Allison started to cry as Luther pushed past Grace and confirmed the truth Klaus already knew, Number Six had returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took a month to write, I got majorly stuck on a bit but hopefully, this was worth the wait. I love every single one of my readers so fucking much.
> 
> only a chapter and an epilogue to go


	4. Chapter 4

_Seventeen Years ago_

 

“We’re all done Number Six. You may leave now.”

The short, clipped words of his Father snapped Ben out of the daze he induced himself into as routine for Father’s work. Distantly he heard a squelch as Father finished his task and placed something into a shallow bowl on a tray next to Six. The pain he’d staved off during the examination reared its ugly head, and he wilted like a dying flower on the table he sat on. Curious Six peered into the stainless steel bowl to see the thing taken from him, covered in viscous blue ichor the lump wobbled and squirmed. Indescribable Six never got a chance to get a better look at it before Father removed the tray and rolled back to his desk.

 

Slowly Six pulled on his undervest while careful not to knock the new incision on his left side. Reginald hadn’t cared enough to stitch it up or place a dressing over it since the bleeding ceased almost immediately after the scalpel had finished its slice down Six’s skin. Why bother when in a few hours the incision would heal and not even leave a scar to show it had ever been there. Six shrugged on his shirt and fumbled to do up the buttons, his fingers still stiff and uncoordinated from the paralysis. Under his skin, the things undulated and pushed against his skin, visible through the white fabric of his sleeve. They seethed in anger, and Six was terrified they would break past his skin and hurt someone,  probably himself since he let his Father maim them.

 

Six rubbed his forearm hard until the monster retreated back into the unknown and grabbed his blazer off the side as he hopped off the table. He shuffled past his Father and towards the iron door that separated him from the freedom of this hellish room. Before he left Six looked over his shoulder at his Father, he sat hunched over his desk with the tray next to one of the many journals Father owned. He murmured to himself and ignored Six entirely, too engrossed in his work to concern himself with one of the children in his care. Six didn’t bother to say goodbye as he pulled the door open and escaped into the cold air of the stairwell. Six started the exhausting journey back to the infirmary and as he climbed each stair the wound on his side throbbed as it split open anew with every movement. By the time Six reached the top, he was short of breath, and his calves burned, at least the cut now only ached dully, and he could move without it ripping apart.

 

The infirmary stood empty as Six shut the hidden panel behind him. Despite still winded he practically sprinted across the black and white tiled floor to put as much distance between and the concrete box which most of his nightmares were set. Every visit stirred the monster into a rage induced frenzy; its hatred simmered below his skin each time Father removed another part and poked at it. It made Six loathe himself more and more, and he hated his body and the carnage it could do. He wanted more than anything to bolt to his room and under his covers for the rest of the day.

 

Firmly outside the infirmary Six darted towards the back staircase which would take him to his and Five’s rooms. On the way, he bumped into Three by the entrance of the courtyard, in her hands a skipping rope made from rope she found in a forgotten room in the Academy. She smiled and stopped to greet him. Six managed to return a grimace he hoped passed as a smile and froze as something pushed past his skin and into the light. Three’s eyes flashed with fear as she backed away from Six. He forced the thing back and before he could apologise Three had already turned tail and run. Filled with more self-hatred Six wished the others didn’t look at him as a monster to be feared any time he used his power. Or even better a different gift.

 

Determined to cocoon himself into a nest of blankets to block the world out and read Six took a half step forward as someone slipped their hand into his. Four had appeared from thin air like one of his ghosts with fury on his face, more than evident he’d seen everything and hadn’t liked their sister’s reaction. There were no shouts of anger at Three or words of comfort for Six as Four’s jaws were wired closed. Four had stolen a pair of heels from Mom and a dress from Three, and when their sister found out he’d run down a set of stairs and tripped. He’d landed on his jaw and shattered it. Four looked about ready to chase after Three and fight her; it unnerved Six for his brother to be so quiet in his anger. He squeezed his hand to distract him. Six could barely wait until the wires were gone and he was able to hear Four’s voice again.

 

Six noticed in Four’s other hand was the book he’d started reading before Father summoned him for training. He went to pluck it out of Four’s grip and retreat upstairs when his brother yanked it out of reach and pulled him towards the courtyard doors. He allowed himself to be dragged outside into the warm spring air and wondered what Four wanted. They stopped below the lone tree in the pavemented quad, and Four lowered himself onto the small around of grass at its trunk, his back against it. Unsure Six stood still until Four got impatient and patted the empty space beside him. Finally getting what he meant Six settled next to his brother and tugged the book out of Four’s loose grasp. He knew from past experience Four enjoyed it when he read to him after he confessed one night curled up together that the words never remained still on the page for him.

 

He flipped to the first chapter and started to read aloud and became lost in the black text on the page. Twenty minutes passed before Six realised Four had fallen asleep, his head rested on his shoulder and body slack against him. Six stopped his reading and stared down at the peaceful face of his brother. The dark circles under Four’s eyes contrasted starkly with his pale skin and made Six reluctant to disturb him. A miracle for him to even doze a week after his last private training at the mausoleum. A punishment given to Four for delaying the reveal of the Academy to the press and cause all of the seven to wait longer for proper names. Six doubted ever to get used to any name other than the number he was called by day to day. It would be a secondary identity to fool the outside world, to Father they’d always be numbers instead of children.

 

The book long forgotten Six placed an arm around Four’s shoulders and absorbed the tranquil silence of the courtyard in spring. He flinched a little as Four snuggled closer into his chest and nudged the nearly healed injury on his Six’s side. The contact woke the slumbering beasts inside of Six, they pressed upwards, and he could make out the tips of several tentacles through the thin fabric of his shirt. He attempted to withdraw from his brother, petrified his worst fear would come true, and he’d hurt or even kill Four.

 

The world went static as the familiar sensation of immobility took over, and Six’s body stiffened like a wooden board. Out of the corner of his eye Six watched on helpless and panicked as Four woke up. It took a moment for Four to realise what was wrong and Six expected him to run away to find either Father or Pogo. Only to be surprised when Four stayed put and removed the arm around his shoulders. Before he could do anything more, a tentacle popped out from Six’s sleeve and wrapped itself around Four’s wrist. He kept still and despite the blood that now ran down his wrist and onto the grass Four didn’t leave.

 

Without any words and only actions Four made it apparent he wouldn’t flee as he placed his hand in Six’s and let the tentacle encircle their intertwined hands. Six barely felt the chitin dig into his skin or the blood that pooled under their linked hands. A euphoria crept over him as he lost himself in the fact Four hadn’t abandoned him. The bond between them deepened with Four’s simple gesture of kindness and Six hoped in the future it never broke. Overjoyed Six realised unlike the others Four would never be afraid of him or run away, it calmed the choppy waters of his heart to know Four loved him in spite of the monster inside of him.

 

***

 

_Present Day_

 

Pulled up next to the lone stretcher Klaus perched on the edge of a plastic chair inside the gloomy infirmary. Klaus watched over Ben’s unconscious body and fidgeted in his seat as he tried to concentrate on Ben’s breathing. The incessant itch of addiction flared down through Klaus’s veins and bade him with a sweet voice to leave so he could fix it, out of sheer willpower he stayed out of duty to his brother. The movement of Ben’s chest made the angry red line of scar tissue, which only a few hours ago a gaping chasm to twitch like a deadly snake. Already the ghosts had gathered into the corners of Klaus’s vision and crowded around the edges of the room, enclosing both him and Ben in a circle of death. Silent for the time being soon enough, the spirits would start their cacophony of anguished moans and screams. Klaus clung tightly onto Ben’s left hand with his own, the lifeline the only thing kept him tethered in place and stopped him from running.

 

Three hours had gone by since Luther had Ben nestled in his arms and carried him out of the dank prison Reginald had locked him in for over a decade. Arms linked Allison and Klaus followed behind and used each other for support. The reality of the situation set in for Klaus and the other two as Pogo stood helpless in the infirmary for a few minutes before he jumped into action. He’d disconnected Ben from the cocktail of fluids the IV had steadily pumped into his veins over the years, and miraculously he began to heal at an expedited rate. The colour returned to Ben’s gaunt cheeks, and he seemed healthier in such a short duration of time. Even with this turn of luck, Klaus had known from Pogo’s demeanour he didn’t believe Ben would regain consciousness. Klaus had lost track of Luther and Allison, Luther seemed shocked to the core, Allison probably had started the miserable task of rounding up the other three of the group and Mom went off to fix his coat. Pogo had left Klaus alone to say goodbye to Ben without interruption.

 

The years in an induced coma and unknown experimentation were not kind to Ben’s body and had left him with severe damage. On the slim chance he did wake from his comatose state there was a real possibility Ben would never walk or move his arms again. Except no one knew the extent of Reginald’s tinkering and its after-effects on Ben. The journals Klaus had liberated from the wreckage downstairs laid on the desk nearby and sifting through them to figure out everything done to Ben could take days or even weeks. Until then Klaus held onto his unwavering faith in Ben’s recovery, he’d promised never to leave him alone, and so far Ben had always kept it.

 

During his vigil, the guilt he’d suppressed of his past shameful actions resurfaced and overwhelmed Klaus. No matter how he excused it, Klaus had contributed to Ben’s suffering and apparent death. If he dared to speak up all those years ago and not be the cowards he was, Ben wouldn’t be on the stretcher and maimed beyond recognition. The only justification he could produce was the fact back then he’d been a stupid teen dealing with his own trauma and demons. Klaus honestly couldn’t believe Ben had fallen in love with him. Reginald had beaten it into his skull over, and over the idea, he was unworthy of love and a failure. To admit even to himself, his true feelings towards Ben scared him more than the mausoleum or the dead. When they were still just kids Klaus hadn’t wanted to drag Ben down to his level because his brother had a real chance of a normal life away from the destructive influence of the Academy, he couldn’t ruin that with the cursed weight of his own selfish desires. Klaus had to face up to the raw, bloody truth; his love had doomed Ben without him ever uttering those three words out loud.

 

Worn out from everything, Klaus lifted Ben’s slack hand and sandwiched it between his own. He lowered his head down to just a few centimetres above the strange white flesh of Ben’s hand and whispered his confession of guilt.

“I’m so sorry. Back when you needed me the most I failed you and then failed you again by never telling you the truth,” Klaus inhaled a deep breath of air and steeled himself for the next part. The words were heavy on his tongue as he voiced the feelings he spent what felt like a lifetime running from.

“The truth is I did love you, I still love you. So much my heart broke every single time I saw your ghost because I’m the reason you died. If I hadn’t been such a fucking coward you wouldn’t be here, and I live with that regret every day,” the words tumbled from Klaus’s mouth as gripped tighter onto Ben’s hand and let a few tears fall on their linked hands.

 

Klaus performed along unpractised ritual and kissed each tip of Ben’s fingers, the texture of the skin alien compared to the last memory Klaus had done this. A memory he treasured even after it became tinged with sadness and regret. Despite it all, it was still Ben, the person he’d loved since he was old enough to understand what love meant and the joy it could bring. Nothing could erase Klaus’s feelings for the former ghost he’d shared the last twenty nine years with.  

 

Gently Klaus set Ben’s hand back down onto the stretcher and released it. He sat up straight and stretched his spine as he pressed his fingers against the tender skin of his neck. He hissed in pain and moved his hand away, by tomorrow Klaus would have some impressive bruises and lacerations that he doubted he could hide with a scarf. Automatically Klaus scanned the room for a familiar face in the crowd of ghosts, a reflex that probably would take a while to fade. That’s when he noticed a child spirit standing near Ben’s head, her bright blue eyes steadfastly trained on the unconscious body. Her expression unreadable she seemed almost serene compared to the others of her ilk in the room. She remained unmoving without caring about the blood stains on her pure white dress or her missing arm. Her gaze drifted from Ben to Klaus, and her eyes bore straight through his soul. It was like she saw every past mistake and regret Klaus hidden deep within him and used it all to compose a judgement of him.

 

Klaus mustered his courage to chase her away, but before he could move a muscle, she twisted away from him and skipped to someone in the crowd. Her hair and pink ribbons swishing in the wind as she was picked up by a woman in a blood-soaked sweater, obviously her mother she held the girl close to her ruined chest and smiled at Klaus. Perplexed at the two ghosts, Klaus got distracted from them when Ben stirred beside him. Ben’s eyelids fluttered open, and his eyes started to swivel wildly in confusion. Instantly Klaus got to his feet and placed his hands firmly on Ben’s inner elbows to halt his movement in case he accidentally injured himself. Ben relaxed at the touch and focused his eyes on Klaus. He opened his mouth to speak only to find no words came out. Klaus immediately guessed that after so many years of forced sleep, Ben needed to drink something. He picked up the glass of water Mom had left on the side table next to the stretcher and brought the plastic straw to Ben’s lips. He kept in steady as Ben gulped down several sips.

 

After he had enough Ben managed to croak out, “What the fuck happened to me.”

Klaus paused for a moment to deposit the glass back on the table and gathered his thoughts before he replied, “Not sure yet, our esteemed Father had you in an induced coma and no one is certain what shit he’s done to you while in it. Or the effects both of those things combined mean for your body.”

 

Ben remained silent as he mulled over his brother’s words. Klaus shifted from foot to foot and hoped Ben had no memory of the evening’s events. He really did not want to set the burden of guilt onto his shoulders for the marks that peppered Klaus’s neck and body. Too bad his luck ran out as Ben caught sight of the suction bruises which bloomed on the pale skin of Klaus’s neck. Tears welled up in the corners of Ben’s eyes began to choke out a heartfelt apology.

 

 

“Oh god what has It done to you, I’m a monster. I’m so sorry.”

Klaus tried to ease Ben’s fear as he replied, “No, No, Benny, it wasn’t your fault. You are still you, and I know you wouldn’t purposely hurt me.”

“Still I’m s--.”

Klaus cut him off before he could finish his sentence, “Nope, apology not accepted. We can talk more tomorrow, but right now you need to rest.” Ben appeared about to disagree when Klaus cut him off again, “No arguments, sleep, and I’ll be here when you wake up. I promise.”

 

Ben had already begun to drift back into unconsciousness as Klaus finished speaking, his energy limited since he had an actual body and was no longer another ghost who hung around his brother. Klaus smoothed down Ben’s greasy hair and bent over to kiss his brow. Ben smiled at the touch, the first real affection he’d received from Klaus in over a decade. Finally asleep Ben left Klaus alone in the room filled with the ghosts that hated him. He had the unrelenting urge to numb himself again, and his body trembled with the need to put something into it to quiet the world. The brave face Klaus had put on for Ben cracked as his heart screamed in agony at the unfairness of the world. He should be the one trapped on a stretcher, not Ben who deserved so much better.

 

Klaus waited another half an hour before he pressed a final kiss on Ben’s forehead and walked away from him. Pogo needed to be notified of Ben’s brief bout of wakefulness and for someone else to watch over him while Klaus went out. He had to find one of the dealers he was on friendly terms with so that tomorrow he could be fully there for Ben without distractions. Klaus hated himself for leaving Ben after his promise, but old habits were hard to break. He desperately had to feed the addiction that defined his adult life and stopped him from breaking entirely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long I got sick and was unable to write for like a month.   
> the epilogue should be ready at the weekend and then I'm done yay~


	5. Epilogue

_ Twenty one years ago _

 

Number Six waited anxiously by the foot of the stairs for Four to return home from the private training session Father had taken out of the house for. The beasts inside Six twisted his intestines and ramped his uneasiness to a whole new level. He hoped Four’s training wasn’t as bad as his own for Four’s sake. The stale air of the hidden room and the pain it represented already the biggest source of fear in Six’s young life, but he could handle it with Four by his side. His watch had begun in the entrance hall an hour after Father departed with Four in tow early the prior morning. Almost nine pm the next day, Six had only moved in that time to eat or sleep. 

 

At first, Pogo had attempted to get Six to do his schoolwork and even bribed him with forbidden books to tempt him away from his watch though he refused to move an inch. Eventually, Pogo had taken pity and allowed him to stay put but only with the promise he’d use the time to study. Six had passed the hours with the stack of books Father had approved for him to read, most of them were survival or self-defence guides with a sprinkling of old history books on war. At various points of the day, each of his other siblings came to sit with Six to keep him company. A huge indication that everyone was worried for Four’s safety and hoped he was okay. 

 

Six contemplated about calling it a night and heading up to bed when the front door burst open. He sprang to his feet and bolted like lightning to hide behind one of the columns that supported the upper stories. Carefully he peered around the beam and watched as Father strode proudly in while Four lagged at his heels. Six placed a hand on his mouth to force himself to not cry out at Four’s sorrowful state. Dishevelled Four’s uniform had holes torn out of it, and the rest covered in a mixture of dirt, dust and cobwebs. Face stained with tears Four’s gaze focused firmly on his own feet. Detached from the whole situation, Father ignored his son and stalked up the stairs towards his study. The moment he’d left Four collapsed onto the floor and pressed his hands against his ears.

 

Soundlessly Six crept from his hiding place, and tiptoed to Four, he knelt next to his brother and extended out a hand to comfort him. Four flinched and violently slid backwards, his face filled with a fear Six had only ever seen in a mirror after his own training. It tore Six apart to realise a piece of Four had broken under the strain of unknown terror. Six took a different approach and shuffled on his knees until he was in front of Four. This time he made sure Four saw him as he slowly stretched out his hand, palm up. Four didn’t cringe away and allowed Six to take his hand and pull him off the floor. 

 

 

Entirely on another realm of existence Four let his brother lead him by the hand up the stairs which connected the entrance hall to the higher floors. He relied entirely on Six to guide him up every step lest he trip and fall forward. Whenever Six looked over his shoulder at him, Four’s expression remained vacant of spirit. It distressed Six to the core, this wasn’t the normal behaviour for his brother, and it frightened him. What had Father’s training been to extinguish the fire inside of Four? His brother was usually a force of mayhem that bounced and babbled to bring some levity into the dull tomb of the Academy. Subdued Four was a shell of his former self, and Six hated his Father for whatever torture he’d inflicted on his brother in the name of training. 

 

Finally, they reached the top of the darkened stairs, and Six pulled Four in the direction of the corridor which contained the main bedrooms. Their footsteps echoed on the hardwood floor and drew the attention of the others, one by one, the doors opened a crack and faces popped out through the gap to see who the intruders were. As soon as they saw it was Four back from his excursion, everyone snuck out of their rooms to check on him. Carelessly One accidentally let his door slam shut behind him which caused Four to jump out of his skin and press himself against Six’s back as the rest of the children of the Academy crowded around the two boys. 

 

The first to break the silence Number One asked, “Where did dad take you?”

Four shied away from the question and tried and failed to hide behind Six. One opened his mouth to speak again when Two elbowed him in the side.

“Leave him alone. It’s obvious he doesn’t want to talk about it.”

While One and Two bickered Three ignored them and stepped in front of Six with a weak smile on her lips. She gently coaxed Four to show his face and wiped the tears off his cheeks with the sleeve of her pyjamas. Further back from the rest of the group Five and Seven stood close together and whispered in each other's ears, their expressions troubled as they glanced at Four every so often. Overwhelmed at being the focus of attention Four trembled against Six’s back and crushed his hand in a death grip. The noise and scrutiny far too much for his fragile brother Six made the executive decision to remove him from the situation. To be honest, the ruckus had caused the eldritch being to get interested, and Six needed to stop things from escalating before something out of his control happened. The others would just have to wait until tomorrow to talk to Four. He pushed past Three and his two quarrelling brothers and pulled Four away from the other numbers to escape into his brother's room.

 

Safe inside the messy sanctuary of Four’s room Six was careful to shut the door so it wouldn’t band and startle the other boy. The second they entered the room Four had let go of Six’s hand and walked straight to his bed. He laid back on the covers without bothering to remove his uniform or shoes and stared blankly at the ceiling. Six chose to do what Four always did for him on nights after his own training when he couldn’t look or touch himself without crying and rummaged around the small dresser near the bed for clean pyjamas. He retrieved two pairs, and as Six placed them on the bed, he heard someone quietly knock on the door. He went to find out which one of his siblings had come to visit and was pleasantly surprised when he opened the door to see Seven in between the gap of the door. She didn’t say a word as she placed a wet washcloth in Six’s hand and ran away. 

 

Touched at her gesture, Six returned to Four and forced him to sit up. Gently he wiped the grime off Four’s face and methodically removed the worst of the cobwebs out of his hair and the dirt encrusted on his hands. Four’s expression remained neutral as Six removed his blazer and then his shirt. Six then discovered hidden underneath on Four’s arms was a mess of self-inflicted bruises and scratches that spread from his wrists to his upper arms. Internally Six winced in sympathy while his brother just stared right through him. He didn’t react as Six pulled off his shoes, socks and shorts, his mind far too lost to care about someone else undressing him. Six coaxed his arms through the sleeves of the pyjama shirt and helped Four yank up his PJ bottoms. 

 

Dirty clothes and washcloth shoved onto the floor Six lifted back the duvet covers and let Four crawls under them. Again he took up the position of lying flat on his back with his eyes rigidly fixed on the blank ceiling. Hastily Six changed into the spare pair of slightly too large pyjamas and moved to turn off the overhead light. The moment he flipped the switch and cast the room into darkness, Four let out a low anguish filled whimper. Six didn’t mind sleeping with the light on if it alleviated some of his brother’s fear and switched it back on. Four quietened instantly as Six returned to the bed, he slipped in next to his brother and expected nothing. Broken out of his near catatonic state Four rolled over and buried his face deep into the smaller chest of Number Six and began to sob. His body shuddered and convulsed as Six wrapped his arms around him and held him tight. Six steadily rubbed his back in the same way Four would whenever his brother felt sick from the monsters that lived in his body. He knew then he would do anything to protect his brother and take away his tears. 

 

Audible to only Four, he whispered into his damp hair, “Shush, I’m here, and I’m never ever gonna leave you alone. Not ever. I promise.”

He intended to keep that promise no matter what, even if he died, he would choose to stay by Four’s side and ease his pain rather than abandon him. It would take years of growing up for Six to understand the implications of his promise, but for now, he enjoyed the feel of Four’s body against his and hoped tomorrow would be a better day. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hurrah this is done at least for now, I do plan to continue this on at some point but right now I need a break to do other projects and catch up with watching stuff. I do sincerely hope everyone liked this as much as I did writing it cause I know it's a weird fucking story/concept.
> 
> anyway thank you all for reading and the feedback.


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